A Symphony of Dreams
by OmniHelix
Summary: Rachel and Finn meet their old Glee friends at Kurt & Blaine's wedding rehearsal dinner. Third installment in the "Bohemian Finchel" universe.


**A/N: This is the third installment in what others have begun calling my "Bohemian Finchel" universe. For proper perspective, my stories "And They Played Real Good for Free" and "Your Witness My Own Hand" should be read first, in that order. The song "Here Comes the Flood" is by the Oysterband. "Zambezi Lullabye" is my own. I own neither Glee nor the characters. **

* * *

><p>"How do I look?" Rachel asked before they left for the rehearsal. Finn gave her one last, appreciative onceover. "Fantastic," he murmured into her ear. She wore a white, sleeveless, mid-thigh cotton dress and low black pumps. Her hair was recently cut to shoulder-length, and she let its natural waviness fill it out. Dark, smoky eye makeup completed the look.<p>

"You don't look bad yourself, baby," she told him. Finn was wearing the outfit he usually wore to theatre performances or recitals by his or Rachel's professors : black blazer and trousers, with an open-necked white shirt. His long hair was still shaggy but neat, around his shoulders.

The rehearsal, like the wedding, was being held in the Hummel's backyard; the dinner was to be catered there afterwards. Finn parked the truck on the street, opened Rachel's door and she took his arm as they walked up to his family's house. He was glad how the wedding plans had turned out. Kurt had been so apologetic when he announced that Blaine was to choose the best man and had decided on his old Warbler friend Walter. Finn told him he was just as honored to be asked to be a groomsman, and to not stress it. Even Rachel had no problem with Mercedes being maid-of-honor, much to Kurt's astonishment. She told Kurt their friendship did not depend on what role they played at each other's weddings, making him wonder aloud what happened to his diva. "I love you, Kurt," she told him, "That's never changed, and it's all that matters."

Blaine greeted them at the door, with "My Maria!" and a big hug for Rachel ("My Tony!" she squealed), and a hug for Finn. He handed them each a glass of champagne, and led the way to meet everyone else. They saw Carole and Burt in the kitchen, talking with the caterer, hugged them both, then wandered into the garden, looking for Kurt. He was sitting with Mercedes at one of the tables to be used for the dinner. When he saw Rachel and Finn he jumped up, yelling "DIVA!" and ran up to Rachel, took embraced her and raised her off the ground. She giggled, finally making him put her down so that he could bro hug his brother.

They both turned their attention to Mercedes, who stood shyly by the table, but Finn and Rachel deliberately kept a distance from her.

"Fred gave us your card," Finn said first, gripping Rachel's hand, keeping her near him. Mercedes nodded.

"And we were wondering what you meant about making some music together," Rachel finished, speaking evenly, still not approaching. Finn was proud of her. It was in her nature to forgive easily; too easily, in his opinion. They had discussed what to do when they met Mercedes, and Finn argued for making sure they got some acknowledgement of how shabbily Mercedes had treated her, as well as him, before agreeing to any kind of collaboration. He still rankled over being dismissed so easily when he defended Rachel's work ethic. Neither he nor Rachel resented her success, but they both were proud of their accomplishments, modest by comparison as they were.

Mercedes, to her credit, got the message. "I liked what I heard you playing in the park," she said, "and wondered if, on my next trip to New York, maybe I could sit in on a Finchel gig? That is, if you guys would let me." She smiled at Rachel. "Maybe we could do a duet—without the diva-off." She took a deep breath, then continued, "I-I really appreciated your note about me on your band website. I'm not sure I deserved that, after how I treated you guys."

Finn just nodded, and Rachel blushed and looked down. "We've always respected your talent," she stated, softly.

"I'm gonna hug you now," Mercedes said suddenly, rushing over, and Rachel giggled in surprise and delight at the appropriation of her trademark saying. Their hug was warm and sincere, and then Rachel began grilling Mercedes about the Grammy.

Finn patted Mercedes on the shoulder, suggesting to Rachel that they be polite and finish up the meets and greets. "We'll come back and talk seriously about music later, ok, Mercedes?" She nodded, beaming.

Rachel looked relieved, taking his arm as they strolled over to the others. "Thanks for that advice, "she whispered into his ear, leaning close.

"You're welcome, baby," he replied. "You deserved some respect for once."

He looked down and their eyes met, and he felt her utter trust in him flow warmly throughout his body like a strong liquor. He hoped she felt his adoration for her in return, that everyone knew the depths of his feelings for her. He thought back to the night they finished writing their first song together, lying entwined in their old bed. He whispered to her that she had saved him. Saved him from the life everyone else had decided he would live, believed in him enough to let him find the artist within. And she pulled him even closer, telling him they had saved each other, because he had saved her humanity from being consumed by her ambition.

"Don't you two ever stop?" Finn was snapped out of his thoughts by Puck clapping his shoulder. "Berry! Looking good, baby!" A wiggle of an eyebrow .

Rachel just laughed and kissed Puck's cheek. "It's so good to see you, Noah!"

He led them over to the "kid's table" as he called it. Artie, Mike, Tina, Brittany and a woman in a yellow dress who could pass for a taller replica of Rachel were sitting talking and drinking champagne. Puck went over to the woman and put his hand around her shoulder, saying, "Miriam Bourne, this is Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson".

"So this is Finchel," Miriam said, standing, with a warm open smile. She shook Rachel's hand, and both women gawked at each other for a moment, looked at Puck, then burst out laughing.

"What can I say?" Puck shrugged, muttering something about hot Jews.

Finn looked around for Santana or Quinn. Artie said both were here, probably off plotting world domination together. News was exchanged. Artie was in film school at UCLA. Tina had just graduated from Bennington, and she and Mike were both pondering offers with the Alvin Ailey Dance Company in New York. Brittany was a session dancer in Los Angeles, and Puck did session guitar work there, where he met Miriam, a middle-school Communication Arts teacher. They had all kept in touch with each other since graduation, so it was up to Rachel and Finn to fill everyone in on what happened to them.

"Yeah, dude, What the hell?" Puck exclaimed, "Both of you just up and LEFT. What was that all about? We've been trying to pry the reason out of Kurt and Blaine in LA, but they've never cracked."

Rachel just gave a half smile and looked down, and Finn could feel her squeezing his hand hard. He asked her if she would mind getting them some more champagne (giving her an almost imperceptible nod) while he started catching everyone up. She nuzzled his ear. "Thanks, baby," she murmured out of earshot, and left with their glasses. They had planned for this, too.

"It's simple, really," Finn said calmly, looking directly at them, "What you expected to happen, didn't."

"What do you mean?" Artie asked, and all of them, especially Miriam, looked puzzled.

If that's the way you want to play it, Finn thought, so be it. "Miriam, you weren't there when this happened, so please accept my apologies in advance if you feel a little out of the conversation for a bit." She nodded slowly, probably wondering what kind of train wreck she was about to witness.

"Do you remember that party Santana threw after we won Regionals?" Finn remained calm, trying not to expressing any anger, because there really wasn't any of that anymore. He just had to let them know how he and Rachel had felt. He glanced at Miriam. "Rachel had just received word that she hadn't been accepted into the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, and I knew already that I wasn't going to get a football scholarship to Ohio State. Suffice it to say we were both depressed and trying to regroup. Rachel didn't want to go to the party, but I talked her into it, saying we needed our friends right now." He couldn't help but let out a small, bitter laugh.

"We were the last to arrive, and as we approached the living room where everyone was, we overheard an interesting conversation." Ah, he thought, there go the light bulbs, judging by the guilty expressions.

"Look, dude…" Puck attempted, but Finn waved him off.

"No, no, man. It's okay. I'm—we're-not angry. You asked an honest question and we think you deserve an honest answer." He tried to keep the pain of the memory out of his face as he got to the heart of the matter: "We weren't privy to all of it, but we did arrive in time to hear the consensus: that I had no choice but to stay in Lima and work in Burt's tire shop, and that Rachel would see me for the Lima loser I was and dump my ass, move to New York anyway, and end up a nobody, waiting tables. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen' was thrown in for good measure."

Miriam looked at Puck, then the rest. "Is that true?" Puck nodded, looking down.

"But you stayed at the party," Brittany pointed out.

"Yeah, we did," Finn said, "Only because Rachel insisted we had to show a united front for Nationals. 'We can't afford this kind of drama' she told me, even though tears were running down her face. And do you want to know what bothered her the most, the cut that was the deepest? It was that you thought all I was good for was a Lima, Ohio tire shop." There was silence, until Miriam spoke up.

"What hurt you the most, Finn?"

Finn's shoulders visibly sagged under the weight of the recollection, and he looked down at the table as he spoke. "I couldn't believe any of you, knowing Rachel as long as you did, and seeing how she had changed over the years, thought she would have just dumped me. But then-" he shrugged, "I don't think any of you truly understood what Rachel and I meant to each other. So I guess I can't be angry about it. You should know, however," he gave them a wry smile," that she said she would have stayed in Lima with me, had I asked."

There were a few tense moments of silence, and Finn could tell apologies were being formulated, but that wasn't what he or Rachel wanted. Acknowledgement of the mistreatment was all they wanted. Besides, Miriam didn't deserve to be subjected to old high school drama any more than she already had been. He winked at her. Miriam picked up on it, looked around and said, "So, where in New York do you live? I have family there."

The questions came then, thick and fast. Finn told them about their modest life: the tiny "railroad car" apartment on Onderdonk Avenue in Brooklyn; their jobs; Fred; Clement, Eli and Finchel; Queens College. Eventually, he looked around and said he should go find the black hole Rachel had apparently been sucked into. As he left, Finn felt the wondering looks and the muttering he left behind. Had the mighty fallen? Maybe. If so, they had fallen into a good, simple life together. He could live with that. Damned straight he could.

* * *

><p>Rachel approached the bartender and was about to order two more champagnes when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and found herself looking straight into the cool green eyes of Quinn Fabray. She had always been pretty, but now she was simply stunning, in a soft white floral dress and heels, her hair still short, perfectly coiffed.<p>

"Hi Rachel", she drawled, smiling.

Strangely, of all of their Glee friends, Quinn was the one Rachel wanted to see again the most. They had a curious, unique relationship. Once bitter enemies, neither of them were friends in any conventional sense. They didn't hang out together, and the bonds which kept them part of each other's lives certainly weren't conducive to a friendship: Quinn was the mother of Rachel's adopted sister, and both of them had loved the same man. Yet Rachel appreciated the fact that the two of them, at least in the later high school years, were able to communicate and be honest with each other. They rarely agreed on anything, other than wanting the Glee club to be a success, but when Quinn was having difficulty handling the loss of Beth, Rachel was the only one who offered a hand in friendship, and Quinn had accepted it. Quinn also kept herself above the gloating over Rachel's failure to get into NYADA.

"I hear you just finished your first year in Yale's masters program in Drama," Rachel said, beaming, "That's fantastic!"

"Yeah," Quinn replied, sipping her champagne. "By the way, I have a celebrity story to match your meeting Patti LuPone."

"Really?" Rachel giggled, "Spill it already!"

"I met Meryl Streep."

"No way!"

Quinn chuckled. "Way. She's a graduate of Yale Drama School, and gave a master class to 5 of us one day, and took us to lunch at the Faculty Club."

"Wow."

Quinn put her hands on Rachel's shoulders. "Get ready for the kicker, Rachel. Do you know what her advice for us was?"

Rachel shook her head.

"Never give up."

The two of them laughed uproariously, holding onto each other for support. Quinn looked over at the table where Finn was telling the others some story.

"How is he doing, Rachel?" she asked wistfully. "He looks absolutely happy."

"He is," Rachel said, looking at him fondly. "He found his passion and his dream. Not many people can say that about their lives."

Quinn nodded. "You know, Rachel, I did a lot of soul-searching senior year and the summer after. I'll admit I beat myself up over losing him, because a part of me still loved him. It still does." She stated it without envy. It was just a fact.

"I know," Rachel said softly, putting a reassuring hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"But I realized," Quinn continued, "that my vision of his future was just what everybody else in Lima seemed to hold for him. Everybody except you." Rachel felt herself blushing. "I was just his girlfriend once, and not a particularly good one at that. But you…" Quinn shook her head slowly,"…you were far more." She put her arm around Rachel as they both looked over at him. "You were the steward of his heart."

"That means a lot to me," Rachel said softly. "But what about you? Have you found someone?"

The mysterious, enigmatic, quintessential Quinn Fabray smile slowly appeared on her face. It was the smile Rachel had dreaded back in high school because it seemed no boy could resist its power, its hinting at the possibility of unspecified dark pleasures. She had always thought it was predatory, a signal that Quinn was on the hunt. But now, it had come out in a different context.

"Yeah. There's this guy at school named Gwyllym—he's Welsh—and has a voice like Richard Burton. We've gotten pretty close over the past year. And you know what, Rachel? He knows everything about me, including Beth, and still loves me. I'm not damaged goods to him." She leaned over and whispered into Rachel's ear, "And he's fucking _gorgeous_." The two women giggled like schoolgirls.

"I'm so glad for you." Rachel said honestly. She wished happy endings for everybody. Finn said he loved that about her.

"Listen, Rachel," said Quinn. "I know during the school year, with your jobs and gigs and school, both of you are ridiculously busy. But would you mind if Gwyllym and I came down from New Haven and visited you during Spring Break? Maybe catch a Finchel show? "

"We'd love that, "Rachel said. "You can stay with us if you like, as long as you don't mind sharing a room with Finn's drum kit."

"Deal," said Quinn. They watched Finn get up and walk towards them. Quinn gave her the smallest look, as if asking permission and Rachel just laughed. Quinn ran up and nearly tackled Finn with a huge hug, which he returned warmly, but kept his eye on his true love, the steward of his heart, as she ordered them all more champagne.

* * *

><p>"You should have seen Brittany's face when I introduced her to Beyonce," Mercedes said. The rehearsal was over and the speeches at the dinner had ended. Rachel and Finn were sitting at a table with Mercedes, drinking coffee. They talked pleasantly for a few more minutes, then Mercedes looked at them.<p>

"Listen, you guys. I was serious about sitting in on a Finchel gig. But more than that, I'd also like to take a look at some of your songs, if that's ok."

"You mean to cover?" Rachel asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I meant."

Rachel, flustered, began running their repertoire through her head. She looked at Finn. "Well, I think we have a perfect one. In fact, it's been crying for a truly warm, soulful, female vocal, and I just can't do it justice." Finn rolled his eyes. "Normally, Clement accompanies me on the nayatiti, a traditional Kenyan lyre. But it can also be sung _a capella. _It's called 'Zambezi Lullabye'."

Rachel began singing softly, slowly, in as low a register as she could, to mimic a mother singing her child to sleep:

_Sleep now, my little one_

_Your road was long today_

_The red dust on your crutches_

_Can be easily wiped away _

_Unlike the scars the soldiers left _

_Just rest here now, I pray. _

_Hush now, my brave one_

_Let the river soothe your soul_

_May you grow to love its bounty_

_By its banks may you grow old_

_Let the reeds sing you to sleep at night_

_May you finally be made whole. _

_Forgive me please, my baby_

_Please end my sleepless nights_

_For letting them come and take you_

_And forcing you to fight_

_I bore you, please redeem me:_

_Rest here always in my sight._

Mercedes just sat there for a moment, tears brimming in her eyes. "Girl, what the hell do you mean you can't do this justice?"

Rachel blushed. "You know what I meant," she said.

"I'd love to cover this song, guys. If you'd let me touch it, that is. Has it been published? "

"Oh yeah, " Finn said, smiling. "It's under 'Finchel Music'".

"We'd be absolutely honored if you wanted to cover it," Rachel said shyly.

"So how do you write?" Mercedes asked. "Does one of you write the music and the other the lyrics?"

Rachel shook her head. "Trade secret. And all of our songs are credited to one name, Berry/Hudson, regardless of the amount of individual contribution."

"Ah. Like Lennon/McCartney."

"It worked pretty well for them," Finn joked, chuckling.

* * *

><p>People were now just relaxed and talking in the evening. Finn decided to take a break from the crowd. "I'm going to get some air", he told Rachel and Carole, and took a beer into the backyard. There was a pair of Adirondack chairs under the oak tree, and he settled into one, stretching his legs out in front of him. The warm air and the setting brought back memories of the summer before senior year, when he and Rachel would sit in these chairs and just relax. His reverie was interrupted by a hand resting on his shoulder. It was Santana.<p>

"Hey, Frankenteen," she said affectionately, "Mind if I sit here?"

"Hi gorgeous," Finn replied easily. And she was: dressed in black skinny jeans and a silk, off-the shoulder purple blouse, hair down and flowing, "Go right ahead." She sat and crossed her legs, then raised an eyebrow.

"Sure you want Berry to hear you calling me that?"

"She knows she's the one I'm taking home," he said evenly. Santana raised her wine glass in salute. "Yeah, she does," she agreed.

"So you're in med school now, right? At Johns Hopkins?" She nodded, almost bashfully. "And your pre-med?"

"Boston College", she replied, and sipped her drink.

"That's fantastic," Finn enthused. "So you've been on the East Coast near us all the time we've been there. Too bad we never got together."

She looked at him quizzically. "I didn't think you'd ever want to, considering how both of you just split to New York like that. I figured you guys didn't want to have anything to do with us."

"That _was_ part of it," he admitted. "We thought everyone was looking at us as Lima losers after all. But those first two years were so lonely…."

Santana rested her hand on his arm. "What was it like, just pulling up stakes and heading out there on your own the way you did?"

"Well, we didn't just jump into it without any thought, contrary to popular belief. There was an overall plan, with contingencies."

Santana smiled to herself at the way Finn spoke now. This was not the same Finn they all knew.

"The idea was for Rachel and me first to get jobs, but Rachel's had to be flexible enough so she could go on auditions. Then we'd give the Broadway thing a try for at least a year. If that didn't pan out, then we'd start looking for local schools and go to college. Our parents agreed to hold all of our college savings for us until we needed it. We'd try Broadway again after graduation."

"You keep saying 'we' and Broadway, Finn," Santana pointed out. "Was Broadway your dream as well, or was it just Rachel's?"

He looked up. "No, my dream was different; it just wasn't fully-formed." He gave her a weary smile. "It had something to do with music, but I wasn't sure. I know you all thought I was just riding Rachel's coattails." Santana winced at that, but relaxed when she saw no trace of anger or resentment in Finn's face. "I don't blame you- it must have looked like I just followed her to New York like a lovesick puppy."

"That was the consensus, yeah," Santana said, and they both chuckled. She watched him gaze back at the house—Rachel could be seen through the kitchen window, talking with Carole, Burt and Blaine, and his face suddenly brightened, as if lit by a treasured memory.

"Did any of you know that Rachel said she would have stayed with me in Lima if I asked her?"

"Wow—no," Santana admitted.

"I didn't think so. But she also said that she knew, deep in her soul, that I would never ask her to do that. And she was right."

"You'd do anything for that girl, wouldn't you?" Santana asked softly.

"Anything," he said without hesitation.

"Someday I hope I find someone I love that much," she sighed wearily, draining her glass and standing up. "Let's go, Lurch. I've been tasked to track you down so we can all gets our Glee on."

* * *

><p>It was time for song. The tent for the band which would perform at the wedding had been pitched, and Finn found his dad's old drum kit in the basement, and he and Puck set it up on the platform. Rachel went to the truck and got her guitar, and Puck had his, too.<p>

They ran through old favorites, traded off solos, and did duets, as Burt and Carole and the other guests sat appreciatively in the audience, watching the old Glee Club as few people ever saw them when they just messed around in the choir room. They didn't have a large ensemble number, however. But Rachel had an idea.

"Guys, we have a cover that we do at our shows that's a popular foot stomper. And it has a killer chorus for singalongs by the audience." She looked at Finn, and he grinned, knowing exactly what she had in mind.

Finn went up to Puck. "Dude, I need you to run the drum kit—Eli usually does this when we perform. When the second verse begins, start the backbeat on the bass drum and high hat, and work the shaker—no stick work, ok? "

"Got it," said Puck, intrigued.

Rachel asked Artie if he still carried his harmonica with him. He did. Rachel asked him to improvise a solo after the second chorus, and provide fills until the end.

"Just follow my guitar," she told him, and Artie nodded. "You go, girl," he said. Rachel beamed.

She took off her shoes, and began tuning her guitar as Finn stepped up to the microphone.

"This is one of our favorite songs to cover, "Rachel said when she was finished," It's 'Here Comes the Flood' by the Oysterband. I want you all to join in on the chorus. I'll join in with Finn for the first chorus so you can learn the lyrics, then we want everyone to do the choruses after that." She looked around. "Ready?" Everyone nodded.

Rachel began a fast, upbeat, chugging rhythm for a few bars, her head bobbing in concentration, hair flying, and Finn began to sing:

_Factories in the Philippines__  
>C<em>_utting holes in brand new jeans__  
>F<em>_or cutting edge consumers.__  
>R<em>_ich kids in the West you see__  
>T<em>_hey have no sense of irony__  
>A<em>_nd I'm losing my sense of humor.__  
>A<em>_ll across the wounded sky__  
>V<em>_apor trails multiply_

_Trade winds are getting stronger  
>While we sip Shiraz and chill<br>They bring us apples from Brazil  
>New diseases from the Congo.<br>_

Rachel winked at the audience and added her voice for the chorus:

_I__ haven't prayed since God knows when__  
>M<em>_y teeth are un-american__  
>S<em>_ocialism's orphan child__  
>U<em>_nimpressed, unreconciled__  
>S<em>_ome people think I'm crazy... but I'm not__  
>H<em>_ere comes the flood_

_Here comes the flood_

Now Puck began laying down a loud backbeat on the bass drum and high hat, _thwop-thwop-thwop_, decorated by the shaker, behind Rachel's chugging guitar:

_A million tv dishes crown _

_The skyline of shantytown__  
>E<em>_verywhere our aspiration__  
>T<em>_he word from CNN arrives__  
>W<em>_e watch the headlines of our lives__  
>E<em>_ach marooned in isolation__  
>T<em>_he cool blue light of isolation..._

Finn and Rachel beamed at each other as the chorus began again, everyone, even Burt and Carole, joining in this time: _  
><em>

_I__ haven't prayed since God knows when__  
>M<em>_y teeth are un-american__  
>S<em>_ocialism's orphan child__  
>U<em>_nimpressed, unreconciled__  
>S<em>_ome people think I'm crazy... but I'm not__  
>H<em>_ere comes the flood _

_Here comes the flood_

It was Artie's turn now, and he turned in a stellar, improvised harmonica solo. It gave Finn time to tousle Rachel's hair as she gleefully worked the guitar, shimmying in front of Artie and Puck. Artie's harp continued with glorious fills as Finn sang the final verse:

_Democracy for planet Earth,__  
>T<em>_hey roll it out like astroturf__  
>Busy<em>_ men they're all in a hurry.__  
>S<em>_o you can wear a stupid grin__  
>W<em>_atch 'em roll the bankers in__  
>O<em>_nly the bad guys amongst us need to worry__._

And then the magic happened. Everyone stood and sang the chorus together at the top of their lungs, Rachel wore her dazzling 1000 watt smile, and Finn felt the memories of their last Nationals performance wash over all of them:

_I__ haven't prayed since God knows when__  
>M<em>_y teeth are un-american__  
>S<em>_ocialism's orphan child__  
>U<em>_nimpressed, unreconciled__  
>S<em>_ome people think I'm crazy... but I'm not__  
>H<em>_ere comes the flood _

_Here comes the flood_

"One more time!" he yelled, and the original New Directions soared again, as the fireflies winked and the cicadas whined, all of their love of performing and of each other enmeshed in one symphony of dreams, under the dark, sweet summer sky.


End file.
